A Few Limericks

So I dreamed up a handful of Limericks today. I think a nice bit of humorous doggerel makes for a good intellectual palate-cleanser once in a while. I'm including one that I've had in the back of my mind for several years, and may have posted before; the other three are fresh from the pit of perversity that is my mind.

There once was a fellow named Kermit
Who lived in a tree as a hermit.
When he died, the whole town
Paid to cut the tree down;
It was cheaper than trying to worm it.

A star-struck young lady named Edna
Said, of planning a weekend on Sedna:
"It's cold as a bitch,
But it scratches my itch;
Plus, the lines are not long for the headna."

Though my friend Ernest Pease is most affable,
His poetic pretentions are laughable;
For his notion of rhyme
Is prodigiously dim;
And his attempts to fit his thoughts into a metrical pattern are just atrocious.

A tart-laying sod named Fortescue
Pushed a sod-laying tart to cry, "Rescue!"
His eloping inoysia
Tipped twelve trays of zoysia;
And now the sod's pushing up fescue.